


Right Turn or Left for Dead

by sightofthesun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I just wanted to write detective hux and psychic kylo, M/M, basically this is a psych au, but you don't need a single scrap of knowledge about psych to understand this, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightofthesun/pseuds/sightofthesun
Summary: Despite the fact that he's the Corellian Police Department's finest detective, Armitage Hux finds himself getting nowhere on the murder case that could make or break his career. To make matters worse, witnesses claim that the murders were committed by a sort of ghost, and "psychic" consultant Kylo Ren is hired as Hux's partner on the case. Too bad the two can't stand each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wrote this all in one day and only edited it like once so bear with me lol. This is my first Star Wars fic but I have several more planned, I just decided to get this one out first before Halloween so fingers crossed that I get it done by then!

It’s the twenty-first of October, rain is slamming against the windows of the precinct, and Hux is fucking done.

“The witnesses,” he says, slamming a file on Phasma’s desk, “are fucking lunatics.”

He stands, carefully maintaining an expression of intense disgust, until Phasma finally glances away from her computer.

“Are those the reports?” she asks, choosing not to address Hux’s statement. She flips open the file without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, and they’re all the same. Three separate accounts of a man in a hockey mask seen through the victim’s bay window, not five minutes after the murder took place.”

Phasma raises an eyebrow, turning over one of the pages in the file.

“These all say ‘apparition,’” she comments flatly, “not man. Why.” It’s an announcement rather than a question.

“Because, like I said not thirty seconds ago, the witnesses are all lunatics.” Hux makes to rub at his bad shoulder, stops himself, and straightens his tie instead. “Two of them claimed that the man’s figure somehow flickered, as if about to disappear, and the third one said that there was a, and I quote, ‘ghostly feel in the air.’”

“And just how old are these witnesses?”

“The two males are college students, the female is middle-aged. And before you give me that look, I had the college students’ blood-alcohol content tested before questioning them, I’m not stupid. Both were sober.”

“I never said you were stupid,” Phasma says, finally bothering to look up at him. “Have you shown these to the captain yet?”

Hux snorts. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about how our only witnesses to the fourth pattern murder in the last three weeks insist that a _ghost_ killed their neighbour.”

As if on cue, the door to Snoke’s office is thrown open and Mitaka lurches out in Hux’s direction.

“What is it?” Hux barks, and Mitaka flushes. Phasma smirks at Hux, who glowers at her; he knows fully well that she and Unamo delight in and often discuss in length Mitaka’s alleged boner for Hux.

“Captain Snoke would like to see you.”

Groaning, Hux grabs the file off of Phasma’s desk and brushes past Mitaka, who visibly trembles when Hux’s shoulder grazes his.

Snoke’s office is dark, the curtains drawn and the only light source a desk lamp that should have had its lightbulb changed weeks ago. Snoke is sitting in his desk chair, his back to the doorway, and only turns around once Hux has closed the door behind him. _Typical._

“Detective Hux,” he croons, leaning back in his chair. “Have a seat, if you will.”

Hux lowers himself into the armchair in front of Snoke’s desk, struggling for a moment to maintain his posture in the overly plush chair before reluctantly leaning back into the cushions, feeling ridiculous.

“Did you finish questioning the witnesses?” 

“Yes, sir,” Hux responds, setting the file on Snoke’s desk. “The results were…somewhat unsatisfactory.”

“Unsatisfactory in what way?” Snoke’s gaze is piercing in the half-light, his scarred face a mass of crevices.

“Like the last batch of witnesses, they all reported seeing a white male in a hockey mask at the scene of the crime. This time, however…” Hux trails off, not eager to explain the fact that, according to their witnesses, Sarah Jeffers was murdered by a fucking ghost.

“However?” 

Hux clears his throat. “The witnesses claim that the killer was of the, ah, ethereal kind.”

From what Hux can see of his boss’ face, Snoke’s eyes have narrowed. “Ethereal in what way?”

Not one to hedge, Hux sighs internally and gets to the point. “They all maintain that the murderer was committed by a figure that flickered in and out of visibility, as if supernatural in some way. Essentially, our murderer is an alleged ghost.”

There’s a beat of silence in which Hux feels his face heat up, as if by relaying the outrageous claim he’s somehow to blame for it. Snoke doesn’t move, expression unchanging until he suddenly leans forward.

“Perfect,” he says, and only years of mastering the maintenance of an impassive expression stops Hux’s eyebrows from shooting upwards.

“Perfect?” he questions, leaning forward himself. “May I ask how, sir?”

“I was warned this would come to pass. As a result, I have already made adequate preparations for our given situation.”

“You were - warned…” Hux’s stomach sinks. Surely these _preparations_ wouldn’t somehow involve…

“Kylo Ren informed me of a vision he had mere days ago of a woman being murdered by a figure in a hockey mask. Although he was unable to determine a time or place for the act, he was adamant that the perpetrator was of the metaphysical kind.”

Hux bites his lip to keep himself from cursing aloud, allowing himself several choice words in his head before speaking. “So you…”

“Assigned him to the case, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Hux is immediately on his feet, not even bothering to straighten his suit despite the fact that it is woefully rumpled after reclining in that ridiculous chair. “Captain, I cannot allow you to - ”

He’s silenced when Snoke raises a gnarled hand, suddenly on his feet as well. “Let me remind you, _Detective_ Hux, that you do not need to allow me, your superior, to do anything.” Snake's voice is barely above a hiss, but it seems to echo around the cramped space of the office. “You will not be removed from the case, but will rather work alongside Kylo Ren until it is solved. Do you understand?”

Hux’s hands tremble at his sides, and he clasps them behind his back, feeling somehow small despite the number of inches he has on his boss. “Sir, I apologize, but would it not be more prudent to assign an actual member of the department to the case? Like Phasma, for instance?”

“Detective Phasma can very well be assigned to the case,” Snoke says, voice worryingly steady, “if you do not wish to work it any longer.”

“No, sir, I - ” Hux is once more silenced with a hand.

“Do not forget, Detective, that as our designated psychic consultant, Kylo Ren is not only a viable member of our department, but one of your coworkers, who you will treat with respect unless you wish to be assigned to Officers Thanisson and Unamo’s vandalism case instead.”

“Of course, sir,” Hux grits out, hands clasped so tightly that he can feel his bones grind together. “My apologies.”

“Good,” Snoke says delicately. He settles back down in his chair, holding Hux’s gaze the whole time. “You are dismissed.”

Hux turns to go, but when he reaches the door he’s stopped by Snoke calling his name.

“Sir?” he replies, turning away from the door. From where he’s standing Snoke’s face is entirely in shadow, no more than a dark silhouette.

“I would be mindful of your place, Detective. It would be…unfortunate if word got out that your last few psychological evaluations were falsified. It might even cause you to lose the position you’ve worked _ever_ so hard for.”

Hux swallows hard; though it’s likely impossible that Snoke can see his face colour once more in the obscurity of the office, he still feels like he’s being carefully studied, and consequently mocked.

“Noted, sir.” Snoke nods, and Hux returns it before exiting the office, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him.

He drops into his own desk chair with the barest minimum of composure, staring at his computer’s screensaver unseeingly.

“Bad news?” This time it’s Phasma’s turn to stand in front of Hux’s desk, and he stares blankly at his monitor for a few more moments before dragging his gaze up to meet hers.

“Ah,” she says upon seeing his expression, mouth twisting in a melange of sympathy and amusement. “Ren?”

“Who else?” Hux shakes his head, finally pulling up his case notes on his computer. “I should have known; if Snoke genuinely believes that man has psychic abilities then there’s no reason as to why he wouldn’t buy into this fucking ghost theory as well.”

“So you’re off the case?”

“God, no, but I almost wish I was, as I’ve just been threatened with the loss of my own job if I don't ‘treat him with respect.’” He shakes his head again, clicking open a file of crime scene photos from last week’s murder.

“Well you know…” Phasma trails off, voice thoughtful, and Hux looks up in alarm.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that, you don’t even know what I’m going to say.” Hux glares at her and she levels him with an unimpressed glance. “Look, I’m not saying I believe in the man’s so-called psychic abilities, because you and I both know that that’s some grade-A bullshit. I am saying, however, that you can’t deny that Ren’s actually been an asset to some cases in the past, and maybe we could use the help.”

“ _I_ could use the help, you mean,” Hux remarks, and Phasma shrugs.

“You said it yourself earlier, we’ve had four identical murders in the last three weeks, the last two with witnesses, yet there’s somehow not a single promising suspect yet. I hate to be the one to tell you, but maybe you could use his help, psychic or not.”

Hux gapes at her, and she takes advantage of his momentary speechlessness to pat his cheek in a manner that’s equally patronizing and thoughtful.

“Just try to be a little more civil than usual, is all I’m saying,” she says before returning to her own desk. 

Unsure of whether he should be seething or perhaps genuinely contemplating her advice, Hux turns back to the photos. _He_ should be civil to _Kylo Ren._ As if that were even possible.

-

The next morning dawns just as rainy and miserable as the previous one, and Hux wakes to find that not only has he slept through his alarm, but his shoulder is positively aching and his bottle of painkillers is infuriatingly empty. By the time he makes it to the precinct, he’s a precious three minutes late as opposed to his usual thirty minutes early, and it’s only when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass doors on his way inside that he realizes his belt doesn’t match his shoes.

He stops short in front of his desk when he discovers someone is sitting in his chair. Even with their back to him he knows exactly who the leather jacket and mess of dark hair belong to. 

_Fuck,_ he thinks and tactfully doesn’t say, but Ren spins around in Hux’s chair as if his name’s been called.

“Detective,” he says, deep voice irritatingly cordial as a smirk grows on his face. “You’re late. That makes this what, the second time this decade?”

“Ren,” Hux replies shortly, suppressing a wince as his shoulder twinges at the movement of shrugging out of his trench coat. “The exit is over there, if you’d kindly vacate both my chair and the premises.”

Ren’s smirk grows into a fully blown smile, his scar stretching with it, and he makes a show of settling into Hux’s ergonomic office-regulation chair as if it’s even remotely comfortable. “If you want me to get up I’m afraid you’ll have to move me yourself, _partner_.”

This last word is accompanied by an exaggerated leer, and Hux lets the corners of his mouth twitch slightly downward while keeping the rest of his face a mask of neutrality.

“If we’re going to be working together, Ren, I’m afraid you’ll have to learn to listen to other people, something you evidently didn’t learn during whatever sort of convoluted childhood you had.”

Ren sighs dramatically but rises, pouting. As soon as he’s standing Hux drapes his jacket around the back of the chair and drops into it, slamming his briefcase down in front of him and pulling out a stack of files.

“Those case files?” Ren asks, his face suddenly right in front of Hux’s, who gives an involuntary start, fumbling one of the files. It tumbles to the floor, papers fluttering around his feet.

“Jesus, Ren,” Hux groans, leaning over to gather up the fallen documents, but Ren’s already beat him to it, holding them up in a messy stack.

“Sorry,” he says, and Hux glares at him, searching his face for sarcasm but, uncharacteristically, finding none. “I know you’re on edge - not only are you angry about having to work with me but you also took too much melatonin last night by accident and slept in, which made you late, which makes you anxious.”

Hux pauses for a moment, taken aback. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that he’d taken too much medication the night before, but it does make sense. A year ago he’d have asked Ren how he’d guessed so aptly, but now Hux just glares even more fiercely and snatches the papers back.

“No need to show off, Ren, we all know about your _abilities_ already, just familiarize yourself with the case details and then make yourself useful somehow.”

“No need,” Ren assures him, standing at full height again and grinning. “I’m already familiar with the case. Two murders two weeks ago, one last week, and one this week, all with the same MO: victims were strangled from behind and had their lungs cut out post-mortem. You haven’t yet found a correlation between the victims, all of whom are of different ages and classes, and therefore haven’t been able to find any solid suspects. All you’re going off of is the claim that the perpetrator is a white male of average height and build in a hockey mask, combined with the recent claim that the perpetrator is actually paranormal.”

“Congratulations, Ren, you just proved you can do basic research, or that you can just talk to anyone in this precinct,” Hux says dryly, busying himself with opening the witness statements from the previous murder in order to compare them to latest ones. 

“You also haven’t figured out what the killer does with the lungs yet, as you haven’t found them at any of the crime scenes,” Ren adds, and when Hux shoots him an unfriendly glance his smirk returns.

“Thank you,” Hux drawls, “I wasn’t aware that I didn’t know that. You’ve made things so much more clear now.”

“Message received loud and clear, Detective,” Ren says, holding his hands placatingly in front of him and abruptly changing course. “Aren’t you meeting with the latest victim’s mother in an hour?”

“Yes,” Hux says grudgingly, “I’m assuming you wish to come along?”

“Why, it’s like you read my mind!” Hux chooses not to acknowledge this comment, deliberately not looking up.

“Do you have something useful to occupy yourself with in the meantime? Something like…vibing perhaps? Or casting about your subconscious?”

“Your sarcasm wounds me,” Ren whines, grabbing a chair from a vacant desk nearby and pulling it in front of Hux’s desk, sitting down so that they’re facing each other. “Plus, we’ve worked together enough that you know that I won’t be able to pick up on anything here, I’ve got to actually get _out there_.”

 _Whatever that even fucking means_ , Hux thinks bitterly. “So in the meantime you’ll be doing…what?”

“Keeping you company,” Ren says, with a smile that Hux meets with a scowl. Ren’s dark eyes are swimming with mirth, as if this is a game that he’s somehow winning.

“Fucking fantastic,” Hux mutters, turning his attention back to his statements. “Just fantastic.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux questions the mother of the most recent murder victim. Ren does psychic stuff and may suggest using a Ouija Board at some point in the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to make this the same length as the other chapter but instead I literally spent my entire afternoon and evening writing this and it ended up being like 5k lol whoops. I skipped going to the gym in order to write this, and I actually _like_ going to the gym.

The interior of Hux’s Crown Vic is silent save for the pounding of the rain against the windshield for a grand total of thirty seconds, before Ren reaches over and switches on the radio. He surfs a few stations before settling on an obnoxiously synthesized Top 40 station, leaning back in his seat.

Hux wordlessly reaches out and turns the radio off, eyes trained on the road the whole time.

“Killjoy,” Ren huffs, then pulls out his phone. “So do you have an aux cord or what?”

This time Hux does glance over, if only to give Ren a dry look. “Ren, even if I had one of those things, do you really expect I’d let you blast your - your emo garbage or whatever you call it in here?”

“You know that’s not what it’s called,” Ren whines, and Hux pulls his eyes away from the road again just in time to catch him cross his arms against his chest. He’s removed his leather jacket to reveal an unprofessional graphic tee, giving Hux an unobstructed view of his biceps flexing as he hugs himself. 

Sneering, Hux looks away, steadfastly ignoring the fact that this isn’t the first time he’s caught himself noticing the man’s…assets. Because that is a road that he will never, _ever_ venture down.

“Fine,” Ren says, apparently incapable of sitting in silence for the fifteen-minute drive to Sarah Jeffers’ mother’s house. “Tell me more about the case. Do you have any leads at all?”

“Why bother asking if you can just activate those psychic powers and read my mind?” Hux demands, bristling. He can’t deny the fact that this case has been somewhat of a nightmare, wrong turn after wrong turn and leaving him with neither clues nor solid suspects. This doesn’t mean, however, he’s willing to ask for help from a man who claims to be a fucking psychic.

“Is that an invitation?” Ren’s voice is falsely genuine, and if Hux were to turn to look at him again his eyebrows would undoubtedly be raised suggestively, as they are every time the two of them end up having this discussion. 

Hux rolls his eyes. “What’s there to tell? We’ve questioned everyone related to the victims: family members, significant others, friends, employers…not one either without an alibi or with a motive. The victims have no connection to each other and the press are having a field day. Did you know three days ago I got a phone call from the mayor herself? So I don’t know how you usually go about actually solving the cases you’re assigned to, but you’d better fucking do it this time.”

Ren is blessedly silent in response to this minor outburst, and Hux keeps his eyes trained on the road to hide the flush his face had gained during that unfortunate lapse in composure. He’s reminded of Ren’s earlier comment about his being on edge, regardless of whether it’s from oversleeping or being late or both, but Hux has to admit the man might not have been wrong. Hux isn’t one to lose his cool in a professional setting, even ones involving Kylo Ren.

Luckily Hux is saved from having to face Ren’s eventual response by Mrs. Jeffers’ house appearing to the left, and Hux puts the car in park before the two of them dash through the rain to the front door.

Ren rings the doorbell, waits about five seconds, then rings it again, and Hux hits him on the arm.

“What was that for? Her daughter’s just been killed, you don’t need to antagonize the woman. Besides, we need her information, we can’t have her hating us.”

Ren turns to smirk down at him, and it doesn’t take a detective (ha) to discern that his actions had nothing to do with antagonizing Mrs. Jeffers and everything to do with getting a rise out of Hux.

“Very unprofessional,” Hux mutters, and it’s then that the door in front of them opens to reveal a rumpled-looking Mrs. Jeffers.

“Detective Hux of the Corellian Police Department,” Hux says, holding out his hand, “and this is my partner Kylo Ren. We’re just here to ask you a few questions regarding your daughter, Sarah. May we come in?”

Mrs. Jeffers nods, shaking his hand before stepping aside and letting the two of them into the house.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she says once they’re in the living room and she’s taken Hux’s trench coat. “Let me grab you boys some tea before we begin.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you, Mrs. Jeffers,” he assures her, pulling a notebook and pen from inside his suit jacket.

“Please, call me Alicia, and I insist.” There’s a waver in her voice that makes Hux glance up at her.

He studies her tear-streaked face for a moment, puffy circles under her eyes made darker by her smudged makeup, her lips raw and peeling from being bitten. She doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Of course,” he relents. “Some tea would be wonderful.”

She turns at once and leaves the room to compose herself. Hux directs his attention to the fireplace just to his left, and more importantly, the photos of Sarah on the mantlepiece. He crosses the room to get a closer look, just then noticing Ren, or rather, the absence of him.

“ _Ren,_ ” he hisses, desperately hoping that he won’t be found rooting through a chest of drawers in the master bedroom, like that disastrous missing person case back in May.

“Relax, Detective, I’m right here.”

Hux turns to see Ren sitting cross-legged in the far corner of the room, eyes closed and hands on his knees.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you need to be, I don’t know, walking around the house and touching various expensive heirlooms like usual?”

“I’m trying something new,” Ren replies, eyes still closed but mouth curling into a semblance of a smile. “Meditation.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Hux tells him with no small amount of derision; it’s rather difficult to picture Ren being good at anything that involves sitting still for large amounts of time. 

Turning back to the photos on the mantle, Hux examines what seems to be the most recent photo of Sarah, one from her high school graduation. Sarah and her mother are positively beaming, Alicia with her arm around her daughter and Sarah holding her diploma above her head. Though Sarah’s father was listed as one of her next of kin the last time Hux looked at her file, he seems to be absent from this photo.

In fact, upon scanning the rest of the photos, it becomes clear that Sarah’s father is not featured in any of them. _Interesting_.

Alicia returns with a tray, a kettle and some mugs balanced upon it. She sets the tray on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, inviting Hux to do the same. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice Ren, who is still sitting silently in the corner.

“Alright,” she says, visibly preparing herself for what’s to come, “what do you need to know?”

“How was Sarah’s relationship with her father?”

This question seems to throw Alicia for a moment, clearly not what she was expecting. She looks down, tucking her dark hair behind her ear before speaking. 

“Not…not very good,” she admits, voice notably quieter than before. Hux waits patiently, inclining his head in a show of deference, and after a moment she continues. “Nothing’s been done on paper. We - he and I are technically still married, but Sarah and I were were planning on changing both of our last names back to my maiden name, Ching. Neither of us have spoken to Daniel in years.”

“May I ask why?”

Alicia looks up at him, eyes haunted in a way that Hux knows far, _far_ too well, and he nods in understanding.

“No need to explain.” She flashes him the tiniest of grateful smiles, which disappears almost instantly when Hux poses his next question.

“Is there even the smallest chance that he could have been involved in Sarah’s killing?”

He regrets his choice of words as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and Alicia flinches minutely, her eyes welling anew with tears. She bites the peeling skin on her lip before answering.

“I - I suppose he could have been involved…I just - ” She pauses to sniff and wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater before continuing. “I guess he really could have done s-something. He had no trouble h-harming either of us before but…murder? Mass murder? I just don’t know.”

Hux opens his mouth to respond but she meets his eyes abruptly, expression suddenly steely.

“Actually, yes,” she says, voice hard. “He could, you know, be capable. I don’t know why he would have hurt those other people, but that man - you didn’t know him, Detective. He - I don’t believe he ever felt remorse for what he did to us. He wouldn’t feel any for doing any of this.”

Hux nods, holding her gaze. “Thank you.”

He glances down at his notebook, page devoid of writing, and closes it, changing course.

“In the weeks leading up to the…event,” he says, choosing his words carefully this time, “did Sarah seem any different to you? Going out more, or to places she didn’t usually frequent, seeing people she didn’t usually see, anything of that sort?”

Alicia pauses once again before answering. “New people, no, but…she and her friends did go over to that Herdman place more than usual, you know, with it being around Halloween and all. But that was about it.”

Hux suppresses a sigh at the mention of the Herdman place. “The house or the hotel?”

“I’m not sure,” she admits. “Likely both, but please believe me, she isn’t - wasn’t - a bad kid, teenagers go and fool around there all the time, she’d never cause trouble.”

“I believe you,” Hux tells her, but inside he feels like cursing. The Herdmans were a large family that owned what used to be a five-star hotel - creatively named the _Herdman_ \- on the outskirts of town. A few years before Hux moved to Corellia it had burned down in what was believed to be arson, although the culprit had never been apprehended. Most of the family had died in the fire, leaving only two of the seven Herdman children alive. As far as Hux knows, the two siblings still live in the family’s estate down the road from the hotel, and it's practically mandatory in Corellia for teens to explore the abandoned burnt-out building and some, if feeling daring, even venture onto the extensive Herdman estate itself in hopes of seeing one of the elusive siblings.

The whole phenomenon has earned Hux a number of easy breaking-and-entering and trespassing arrests over the years.

“Detective Hux?” Alicia’s voice has gone worryingly quiet, and his head snaps up.

“Yes?”

“What is your friend doing?”

She seems to have finally noticed Ren, and Hux follows her gaze to discover that Ren is now standing, still in the corner, hands in tense fists at his sides and head down so that his hair covers his face.

Hux stands, scowling.

“My _partner_ ,” he says, emphasizing the fact that he and Ren are definitely not friends, “is ready to leave. Thank you for your cooperation, Alicia.”

At this, Ren finally opens his eyes, slowly crossing the room to stand in front of Alicia, who stands in turn, bewildered. Hux suddenly recalls the fact that he hadn’t even mentioned Ren’s role in the investigation, and kicks himself when he realizes it’s likely that Alicia thinks that Ren is just an extremely eccentric detective, which may be even worse for the CPD’s reputation than the fact that they have a fucking _psychic_ consultant.

“We’re going to bring your daughter’s killer to justice,” Ren says softly, placing a large hand on Alicia’s small shoulder, “and your husband won’t hurt you anymore. I know this.”

Hux stands frozen in place awaiting Alicia’s reaction to Ren’s vaguely threatening candor; people’s responses are usually rather unpleasant. These’s a moment of tense silence during which not one of the three of them moves, and then Alicia bursts into tears.

Ren immediately draws back and shoots Hux a panicked look, who in turn sends back a glare. Comforting distressed civilians has always been Hux’s worst point; he knows fully well that he’s cold and distant, reluctant to provide physical comfort. Ren's hardly any better, if only because of his awkward demeanour, and Hux takes pleasure now in watching him reach out hesitantly to put his hand back on Alicia’s shoulder, giving it a stiff-looking pat.

They leave not long afterward, the tea laying untouched on the coffee table.

“Don’t bother investigating the father,” Ren says once they’ve made the mad dash through the rain to the car and Hux has shifted it into gear.

“And why would that be?” Hux asks, taking a hand off the steering wheel to run his fingers through his hair. He grimaces; most of the gel has been rendered useless by the rain and his fringe is beginning to fall across his forehead like it did when he was a teenager. 

At the lack of a response he glances over to see Ren watching him, seemingly transfixed. Hux curls his lip in annoyance, though he feels his ears going red. He slams his hand back down onto the steering wheel, which jars Ren out of whatever sort of trance he was in.

“Right, the father,” Ren says, as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. “He’s a dead end. He didn’t do it.”

“And how can you be so sure?” The possibility that one of Hux’s precious few leads might be fruitless is made more infuriating by the fact that it’s Ren pointing it out.

“I saw. In the house. I saw a lot of things, actually, but none of them were related to Daniel Jeffers. Even if you went and investigated him, you wouldn’t find a single connection between him and any of the other victims.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do, then?” Hux retorts. “Go exploring tonight at the _Herdman_ with the entire rest of the town’s teenage population?”

He realizes the second he’s uttered the words that this is exactly what Ren wants to do, and then further realizes, with increasing dread, that this is almost a logical plan of action. One of the other victims was fifteen years old, another twenty-six, and paired with Sarah, the only true outlier would be the first victim, who had been forty-three. The other three were all within the range of ages that frequent the old _Herdman_ and the family’s estate.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Hux says, putting up a hand when he sees Ren open his mouth to speak. “If we’re going to do that, we’re going to do it in the daylight, and we’re going to question the Herdman siblings beforehand.”

“Fiiiiiine,” Ren assents, drawing out the word. “So are we gonna get lunch or what?”

Hux glances at the clock on the dash, surprised to see that it’s well past noon.

“We’re halfway back to the station, can’t you just wait until then?”

“Don’t be boring,” Ren says, “if we went out now we could put it on the CPD’s bill.”

“I absolutely - we could not!” Hux glances over to see if Ren’s joking, but he seems worryingly serious.

“Snoke would pay for it if I asked him to,” Ren points out, and Hux has to admit he’s probably right. He’s not entirely sure what the nature of Ren and Snoke’s creepily familial relationship is, but it’s true that Snoke would likely pay for Ren’s lunch, and possibly Hux’s, too, if Ren asked.

“I think I’ll pass,” Hux says instead, and Ren makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat before turning in his seat to fully face Hux.

“Look, were you even planning on eating when we got back, or were you just gonna forget about it and draft some questions to ask the Herdman siblings later and then do, I don’t know, some other research-y shit or something?”

Hux raises an eyebrow because yes, he was planning on doing just that, but he still knows better than to comment on the accuracy of Ren’s statement because to do so would be practically asking to talk about the man’s “abilities.”

The answer, however, must be apparent on his face because Ren sits back in satisfaction.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smirking broadly. “So are you down with Subway?”

And that is how Hux ends up sitting in a cramped booth across from Kylo Ren at the dingy Subway chain two blocks from the precinct. 

Having finished his sandwich in several quick, efficient bites, Hux is now watching in mild horror as Ren practically massacres his own sandwich, pieces of lettuce and meat falling out with each bite. 

Directing his eyes away from the murder scene that is Ren eating, Hux absently finds himself studying the scar that runs diagonally down the man’s face. He’s never asked anyone how it got there, though he’s not sure if anyone else even knows. He’s certainly not going to ask Ren about it, though, if not for the fact that that would involve an extensive conversation with the man then for Hux’s reluctance to discuss his own extensive scarring on his shoulder. He may not like Ren, but he can understand not wanting to recount certain parts of one’s life.

“You should stop doing that,” Ren says, sandwich finally finished. 

“Hm?” Hux shakes himself from his thoughts to realize that he’s been rubbing his shoulder and curses under his breath at the recent resurgence of the old habit. “Oh. Right. So are we going?”

They stand in tandem and are barely out of their booth before a woman steps in front of them, blocking the exit.

“Detective Hux?” she asks, stepping uncomfortably close.

“Yes?” he answers unthinkingly, and then lets out an involuntary, “fuck,” when she produces a microphone out of seemingly nowhere, a man with a camera appearing beside her.

“Ashley Martinez, City News One. Can I get a comment on the progress of your investigation of the recent string of murders that has the entire town on edge?”

“No comment,” he says tersely, attempting to push past her but the man with the camera steps in front of him, snapping a photo at what’ll undoubtedly be an unflattering angle.

“Do you have anything to tell the naysayers who claim that the CPD isn’t even trying to solve the murders and is instead trying to draw out the ordeal for as long as they can in order to get publicity?”

“No comment.” Unbidden, Hux feels his composure slipping, his face heating up as he tries a second time to push his way to the exit only to be blocked once more, this time by Ashley herself.

“What do you have to say about the fact that you’re here enjoying yourself with your boyfriend while we citizens sit helplessly, unable to do anything but wait to hear about the next murder, hoping against hope that it’s not someone we know and love?”

“No - what? This - Kylo Ren is _not_ my boyfriend. And who even writes these questions? Jesus - ” Hux stops when he feels a vice grip on his bicep, and turns to see Ren’s impassive face seconds before he’s yanked towards the back exit of the establishment. A few more camera flashes go off as Hux lets himself be dragged towards the door.

“You shouldn’t have retaliated like that,” Ren tells him as soon as the door has slammed behind them, leaving them in a rain-soaked alleyway behind the building.

“You don’t think I know that?” Hux snaps, running his hands through his already-ruined hair in agitation, not reacting when the action sends a bolt of pain through his bad shoulder, and what the _fuck_ is up with that today? 

He tugs on the ends of his hair, letting the rain soak him for a moment, before turning on Ren.

“Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? May I remind you that back in January you flipped over Thanisson’s entire desk, computer and all, out of ‘frustration over a case’? Or the time you threw a chair at the wall of an interrogation room because a suspect wasn’t cooperating? Who even let you in an interrogation room in the first place?”

“You can yell at me all you want,” Ren says, face sombre, “but I know you blame yourself. You don’t have to. You’re not in the best place right now, and you reacted like a normal person would under stress.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Hux finds himself nearly yelling, takes a breath, and straightens, pushing his hair as much in place as it will go. “You know what? Don’t bother answering. We’re done for today. We’ll talk to the Herdmans and check out the hotel tomorrow.”

With that, he turns and stalks toward the parking lot, not checking to see if Ren is behind him.

-

Two hours after his shift was supposed to end, Hux finally clocks in and goes home. He ends up collapsing on his couch after changing out of his suit, turning the case details over and over in his head as if he hasn’t been doing so every day for the last three weeks. If something doesn’t fall into place tomorrow during their interview with the Herdmans or their search of the abandoned hotel, he’s not sure what he’s going to do.

He’d spent the rest of the afternoon comparing victim information and researching the Herdmans, and he covers his face with an arm while he mentally goes over the results of his research in his mind. He’s still in this position twenty minutes later when there’s a knock on the door to his apartment.

Groaning, he stands and makes his way over to the door, somehow not at all surprised when he opens it to see Kylo Ren.

“You’re literally the last person I want to see right now,” Hux says snidely, but steps aside anyway to let Ren in.

Once he’s shut the door behind him, Hux turns to look at Ren, who is staring at Hux like he’s never seen him before.

“What?” he asks, defensive, and Ren smiles crookedly.

“Nothing,” he says, “it’s just that…I never thought I’d see you wear sweatpants.”

Hux looks down. He supposes it would be weird for Ren, who has only ever seen him in a suit, to see him now in sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt. Suddenly self-conscious, Hux crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well?” he barks after a while. “Aren’t you going to explain what you’re doing here? Or how you got my address, for that matter?”

“Got your address off the internet,” Ren says, shrugging out of his leather jacket and throwing it over the back of a chair like it’s his own apartment. He’s in the same tight t-shirt from earlier that day, and it stretches across his chest. Hux folds his arms even tighter around himself, suddenly hyper-aware of his own thinness.

Ren pauses and looks at Hux again, an odd expression on his face, but it’s gone before Hux can comment on it. 

“I figured, you know, if the killer really _is_ a ghost, we could use this.”

Hux huffs in irritation; after the events of the day he’d nearly forgotten about the claims of a possibly supernatural killer. Then he focuses on what Ren’s just pulled out of his backpack, and blanches.

“A Ouija Board? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

At this, Ren looks a little hurt, and he sets the board on Hux’s kitchen table.

“Now, I know you probably don’t believe in these things,” he begins, but Hux cuts him off.

“Ren, no. It doesn’t matter whether or not I believe in them, because even though I definitely do not, there’s also the fact that it would be so fucking _typical_ if it somehow did work and I ended up being fucking haunted or something, which is honestly the last thing I need right now.”

Ren looks almost delighted at this outburst, and Hux furrows his brow. 

“Have I said something to amuse you, Ren?” he drawls.

“Only that last part, you know, the part where you admitted there’s a possibility of you ending up being haunted after this, which counts as admitting you believe in the paranormal.”

“I do _not_ \- ” Hux splutters, incensed, but stops when he sees the teasing look on Ren’s face. “I hate you,” he says, and Ren’s smile only grows.

“So I gathered,” Ren says, and pulls a giant external hard drive from his bag. “But I figured you wouldn’t be down for using the Ouija Board, so I also brought this.”

He extends the hard drive toward Hux, who takes it, looking at it curiously.

“It’s the security footage from the last couple weeks taken from the cameras of a gas station right across from the abandoned hotel. You can’t see the hotel itself, but you can see the road and the area in front of the hotel where everyone parks before they trespass, so I figured we could speed it up and watch to see if any of our victims have been there recently. I already had it cut down so that it’s just the nighttime footage, and I also had all the nights where there was no activity cut out.”

Hux stares at the hard drive, then at Ren. His mouth is open, but he can’t quite seem to form words.

“Ren…where did you get this? And, more importantly, how?”

“I have my ways,” Ren says in response, winking enigmatically. Then, when Hux gives him and incredulous look, “Rey. My cousin. She works there, owes me a favour. Nothing illegal, don’t you worry.”

Hux is far too grudgingly impressed to object to being patronized. He’s not too impressed, however, to let it slip past his notice that this is the first time in the year he’s known Ren that the man has mentioned any sort of family. 

“Thank you,” Hux says finally, and Ren ducks his head, so Hux can’t be sure, but he’s fairly suspicious Ren is blushing.

They end up sitting on opposite ends of Hux’s couch, his laptop hooked up to the TV and the security footage playing, photos of the victims spread on the coffee table in front of them for reference.

Hux isn’t really in the mood for conversation, and Ren doesn’t seem to be making much of an effort either, the only sound in the room the incessant rain pounding against the windows and their own quiet breathing.

Soon enough, against his will, Hux feels the stress and fatigue of the day catching up with him, his eyelids beginning to grow heavier, each blink slower and more arduous than the last.

-

_Armie is playing in his room, but he’s not having fun. Every noise has him whipping around to see if the door is opening, toys abandoned on the floor._

_Eventually he hears the front door open downstairs, and a chill washes over his six-year-old body. He doesn’t hide because hiding makes it worse. He sits on the floor, staring at his toy cars, pretending that his hands aren’t shaking._

_There’s the sound of footsteps downstairs, doors opening and closing and then - muffled swearing. Armie squeezes his eyes shut, entire body trembling as he hears heavy footfalls on the stairs._

_The door to his room opens and it feels as if the world moving in slow motion. Armie turns to see his father standing in the doorway, and he doesn’t look mad but Armie knows this is a trick because the last time this happened his father didn’t look mad either and he hurt Armie anyway._

_“Son,” his father says, and the word is warm but his voice is not, and Armie can’t help but crawl backwards across the carpet until his back hits the wall._

_“I’m not going to - this isn’t like last time, I just want to know if you touched my things,” his father says, and Armie isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth, because how can he ever be sure of anything ever again after last time?_

_His father crosses the room and grabs Armie’s shoulder, and it doesn’t hurt, but he screws his eyes shut again, because if his father hurts him again he doesn’t know what he’s going to do, he doesn’t have a mom and he doesn’t have friends and he doesn’t have anyone and what if it’s like last time what if -_

_And suddenly the hand clutching his shoulder is not a hand but a knife, buried hilt-deep, and he’s not longer Armie but Detective Hux, and there’s a knife in his shoulder and a gun pointed at his heart._

_And this time there’s no hesitation before the trigger is pulled, no look of panicked indecision, and the shot doesn’t go wide, the bullet entering right beside the blade of the knife - no, this time the shot is straight and perfect and oh God this is it, he’s failed again and this is the end and he was always meant to die young, why does it even matter, and -_

“Hux! Hey!”

Hux’s eyes fly open, his body jerking under an oppressive weight, and he lashes out blindly, his fist coming into contact with something hard. There’s a gasp of pain, a hissed _shit_ , and Hux blinks to see Ren leaning over him, rubbing his jaw. A few things click into place.

“Shit,” Hux exclaims, scooting back into the corner of the couch, as far from Ren as he can get. “Shit, fuck, I’m sorry for hitting you, I didn’t mean to - and - and I’m sorry for falling asleep, sorry you had to deal with - with all that, that doesn’t usually happen, not when I take my melatonin, I just didn’t mean to fall asleep, and I’m…sorry.”

His face is burning, heart still racing from his nightmare, and what the fuck is wrong with him? He hasn’t had nightmares like that in ages, and now Ren’s seen him like this, and he’s fucking punched Ren - which, to be honest, he’s always wanted to do, but not like this, not when it’s going to get him reported to Snoke for mental instability or some shit. Hux rubs his shoulder, unable to stop himself, and stares fixedly at the wall on the other side of the room, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Hux?” Hux keeps his gaze trained on the wall, but out of his peripheral vision he can see Ren inching closer, and he sighs and meets his gaze defiantly, daring him to make some sort of sarcastic comment.

However, Ren’s gaze is surprisingly soft, his face open and movements slow.

“Are you okay?” Ren’s voice is steady, and Hux scoffs, but finds himself nodding shakily. “Can I come closer?” Another nod.

Ren stops when he’s just beside Hux, their bodies not quite touching. “Can I - can I put my arm around you?”

Hux hesitates, then against all of his better judgment, nods. He feels Ren wrap an arm around his shoulders, and notices for the first time that he’s trembling. He tells himself it’s because he’s cold, even though he’s not.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ren’s voice is still low and steady, and Hux wants to resent him for it, but instead he feels himself leaning into Ren’s touch, his head nearly on Ren’s shoulder. He shakes his head.

“Did you - did you see any of the victims on the security tapes?” he asks instead, voice barely above a whisper, and he feels Ren’s chest vibrate when he answers.

“Yeah, actually. Maria Zaidi, and Jesse Brown.” The fifteen-year old girl and the forty-three-year old man. Interesting.

“Well,” Hux murmurs, punctuating this with a yawn, “I guess we’ve got solid plans for tomorrow.”

He knows he should get up, escort Ren to the door, then take his melatonin and go to bed. 

Instead he closes his eyes, leaning back against Ren’s arm. He’ll get up in a minute. He will.

He doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to add some tragic backstory confessions at the end of this chapter, but then I was like nah. So you guys are gonna have to wait a little longer, my bad lol. Please leave feedback if you don't mind!!
> 
> Also, check out my lit af tumblr @ssunglassesemoji


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, I've been ridiculously busy with midterms and sports and the added pressure of my recent realization that I'm no longer interested in the guy I've been seeing so now I have to end things lol that'll be fun. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is longer than pretty much everything I've ever written, almost a whole 7k, so enjoy!!

Hux wakes to a hulking body draped around him and a growing feeling of sheer, unbridled horror.

He waits for a moment before opening his eyes, replaying last night’s events in his mind. With each recollection, the urge to scream grows stronger.

“Fuck,” he mutters, finally opening his eyes to see Ren’s slack face very, very close to his. “Fuck.” He closes his eyes again, groaning in frustration.

He can’t even focus on a single point to be angry at himself over; the previous night had been mistake after mistake. He’d - fuck, he’d invited Ren in, and they’d had a somewhat civil conversation, and then he’d gone and fallen asleep without taking his medication, then he’d had a nightmare, and punched Ren, and then…what? Allowed himself to be comforted, like a child, and then ended up falling asleep in Ren’s arms?

The thought is almost too awful to hold in his mind for long, so Hux extracts himself from where he’s curled up on the end of the couch, Ren’s arms around him, and walks as quickly as he can to the bathroom, where he shuts and locks the door.

He leans over the sink, gazing at his reflection in the stark light of the bathroom, and makes an undignified angry noise in his throat before stripping down and stepping into the shower.

He doesn’t wait for the water to heat up, instead letting the spray change from freezing to hot as it courses over his body, skin turning pink from the cold and then remaining that way due to the heat. 

He massages shampoo into his hair more violently than usual, fingertips pressing hard into his scalp as he deliberates his next course of action. There’s no doubt in his mind that Ren will report him to Snoke as unfit for duty, and then what? Ren’s not going to be the one removed from the case. Hux shakes his head, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He’s not going to let that happen.

There’s always the possibility that Ren will instead pity him, a poor, broken man plagued by nightmares and prone to violence. He’d certainly lost his composure enough times the day before to give credibility to that last point.

Hux squeezes some conditioner into his palm and smooths it into his hair, grimacing. He’d almost prefer the first scenario.

By the time he’s finished his shower, Hux has no plan other than _act like nothing happened and get Ren out of the apartment._

He supposes it’s good enough for the time being.

He brushes his teeth and shaves hurriedly, putting his clothes back on before going to his room to change, as he would prefer not to walk into a possibly-wakened Ren in the hallway whilst wearing no more than a towel.

Ren seems to be still asleep, however, if the silence and darkness of the apartment that greet him when he opens the bathroom door are anything to go off of. Once in the sanctity of his own bedroom, Hux chooses his blandest grey suit with a matching darker-grey tie, as if dressing inconspicuously will somehow improve his current situation.

Standing before his mirror as he often does when he dresses, Hux regards himself again. The lighting in his bedroom is considerably better than that of the bathroom, yet he seems to look somehow worse - there are noticeable dark circles under his eyes, and he can tell from the prominence of his cheekbones that he’s lost weight again. It’s true, he supposes, that this case has taken its toll on him.

_Maybe being removed from the case wouldn’t be so bad,_ a voice from the far recesses of Hux’s brain whispers to him as he’s in the middle of the extensive process of coiffing his hair, and he turns abruptly away from the mirror, smoothing the gel into his hair through muscle memory instead. He does not dignify this traitorous thought with a response.

Ren is standing in the kitchen when Hux enters, looking concerned.

“Morning, Ren,” Hux says, making a beeline for the coffeemaker. “The front door is that way.”

“Hux,” Ren says, and there’s a hesitance to his voice that makes Hux turn. His chest certainly does not feel funny at the sight of Ren, clothes rumpled from sleep and hair in disarray.

“Whatever it is, I don't want to talk about it,” Hux tells him. “Especially if it has to do with the events that may or may not have transpired last night.”

“Chill, Hux,” Ren says, and it’s then that Hux realizes that at some point Ren stopped calling him _Detective_ and started using his name, and his chest certainly doesn’t feel funny at that realization either. “It’s not like we hooked up or anything. Just…here.”

He holds his phone out for Hux to take, but pulls it back momentarily when Hux extends a hand to take it.

“Just don’t freak out.”

“I’m not going to freak out,” Hux snaps, snatching the phone out of Ren’s hand and scanning the screen.

**Detective Courts Psychic while Murders Pile Up**

_Over the past few weeks Corellia has been rocked by a recent string of violent murders that took the town - and its police department, it seems - by surprise. The CPD has allegedly assigned one of its most competent detectives on the case, but we’re not so sure._

_With four murders in the last three weeks, Detective Armitage Hux is either less competent than sources claim, or is simply just not trying. Not a single solid suspect has been ascertained, an insider tells, and leads are scarce._

_So scarce, in fact, that the CPD’s Captain Snoke has reportedly called in outside help in the form of psychic consultant Kylo Ren. The legitimacy and extent of Ren’s psychic abilities is unknown, and City News One did not receive a comment from Snoke when he was reached out to._

_As for the reason for Ren’s sudden involvement, Marianne Winslow, neighbour to the latest victim and witness to the most recent murder, provided a comment._

_“I’m telling you,” Winslow told City News One, “that murderer wasn’t a man. It was a ghost. I saw him through Sarah’s window - there one moment, gone the next. Then back again! Of course they’d have to call in a psychic, you think a plain old detective would be able to catch the undead?”_

_Unfortunately for the citizens of Corellia, neither Armitage Hux not Kylo Ren seem to be doing their jobs. The two were seen having lunch together yesterday during working hours, exchanging some more-than-platonic glances. When asked for a comment on the proceedings of the case, Hux seemed less than pleased at having their date interrupted. Although Hux vehemently denied being in any sort of relationship with his companion, Ren chose not to answer. The two men left together._

Below, there’s a photo of Hux staring intently at Ren’s face, likely taken when he was studying his scar, but after reading the article it could very well be interpreted as a lovestruck gaze. Below it there’s a photo of the moment Ren had grabbed Hux’s arm, taking him by surprise. Hux is looking up into Ren’s grim face, and without context it looks like the cover of some horrible romance novel. At the bottom of the page is a sort of interactive poll:

_So, what do you think?_

_ugh, they’re totally in love_  
they need to focus on the case  
the CPD has a psychic consultant? 

Hux does freak out, but only for a moment, and internally. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose for a few moments before opening them and handing the phone back to Ren, who pockets it, looking expectant.

“Are - are they even a real news source?” Hux says finally, too exasperated to be truly hysterical. “Is there any sort of chance that they won’t be taken seriously? Because really, who ends an article with a poll?”

He knows it doesn’t matter whether or not the article came from a legitimate news source. The word is out there, and it can’t be taken back.

Ren shrugs his massive shoulders. “I guess this is the time to tell you that I’m not entirely sure, but there might be a photographer or two camped out in front of the building.”

Hux stares at him for a long moment before sighing. “Is there not a single scrap of other news in this fucking town?” Ren shrugs again, and Hux alters his plan from earlier, his objective of getting Ren out of his apartment changing to getting the case solved as fast as humanly possible.

“Hope you don’t mind starting a media frenzy leaving my apartment wearing the same clothes as you wore yesterday, but we’re going to visit the Herdmans. Now.” Hux grabs his briefcase from where he’d left it on the counter the night before, heading for the door as Ren scrambles to gather up his backpack and the infernal Ouija Board.

“It’s not healthy to skip breakfast, you know,” Ren hums into Hux’s ear while they’re in the elevator, and Hux frowns at him but says nothing.

After an extremely stressful few minutes during which they are indeed pounced upon by several photographers and even one reporter, Hux finds them once again in his Crown Vic, Ren fiddling with the radio. 

This time Hux is too preoccupied to stop him.

The rain appears to have ceased overnight, a weak sun peering through the clouds overhead. The twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of town would be almost pleasant if not for the tense atmosphere within the car, Hux still stiff with embarrassment over the events of the night before, as well as more than a little perturbed by the article. Ren's oddly non-emotive for once, and Hux pretends that this doesn’t bother him.

When they’re a few minutes out from their destination, Ren finally speaks up.

“Do you have questions planned out that you’re going to ask them?”

“Of course I do,” Hux scoffs. “Who do you take me for, Mitaka?”

“Good,” Ren says, bypassing Hux’s question, “I’ll need you to distract them while I get readings off of the rest of the estate.”

“What happened to meditation?” Hux inquires, less because he wants to know and more because he feels like being patronizing.

“It won’t work today. I can feel it.”

“Well, if the spirits say so,” Hux remarks, rolling his eyes and ignoring Ren’s frustrated huff.

The first thing he notices as they pull onto the crushed-limestone driveway of the Herdman estate is that it’s just that - an estate. Hux doesn’t visit this part of town very often, and he’s rather impressed by the sprawling grounds, and even more so by the colonial mansion that comes into sight as they draw closer.

It’s almost, Hux thinks, as big as his childhood home back in Arkanis. 

He pushes the thought away as soon as it crosses his mind, but his expression must change or something because Ren’s turned to look at him. Hux keeps his gaze trained forward.

Hux makes sure that he’s the one to ring the doorbell this time, and he rehearses what he knows about the remaining Herdman children to himself as they wait in front of the door.

Lindsey and Rachel Herdman, ages thirty and thirty-seven, respectively, have lived on their family’s estate their entire lives. While Rachel, according to the internet, works as an accountant for a firm in a nearby town, Lindsey has no job to speak of, subsisting instead off of her family’s life insurance. Both women keep to themselves, and when conducting his research the day before Hux was hard-pressed to find more extensive recent information on the two.

There’s the sound of several locks being undone before the door opens a crack. A tall woman peers at them through the gap between the door and the frame, eyes flicking from Hux to Ren and back again. _Lindsey_ , Hux’s mind supplies, pulling up a mental picture of a photo he’d found while conducting his research.

“Yes?” she prompts after a while, voice breathy, and Hux pulls out his badge.

“Ms. Herdman, Detective - ”

“Hux,” she supplies, “right, right. I saw on the news this morning.”

Hux forces a pained smile onto his face. Fortunately, Lindsey must not take the news very seriously, because she opens the door the rest of the way to let Hux and Ren inside.

The interior of the house is cavernous, high ceilings and dark floors, but it looks clinical in its presentation, as if out of a catalog rather than a family home. It’s even more like Hux’s childhood home than the exterior, and he suppresses a shiver.

“So,” Lindsey says once the door has shut behind her, hands jammed into the pockets of her hoodie. She doesn’t continue, instead walking over to the couch in the living room and sitting down. Hux follows, and sits in a chair across from her. Lindsey looks at him expectantly, and he runs her through a quick overview of the case, keeping an ear out for Ren’s movements within the house.

“So you think Rachel or I have something to do with this?” Lindsey asks dryly, brow furrowed. “You really think one of us just suddenly decided that we were sick of people intruding on our family’s old burnt-out hotel and just started picking people off at random?”

Hux does a very job of not cringing at the fact that this is his best lead.

“Besides,” Lindsey continues, “I’ve read the articles. I thought the witnesses said the killer was male? Also, I wouldn’t go to all the trouble of cutting the victims’ lungs out.”

“We’re not saying that either of you are particularly prominent suspects,” Hux assures her, despite the fact that this is not exactly true, “but we do need to know if there’s anything you can tell us about your friends, your family, the fire, that might help us in any way.”

“There’s not much I can give you,” Lindsey says, sucking on her lower lip. “It’s no secret that Rachel and I don’t really make an effort of acquainting ourselves with other people from town, and most of our family members are burnt-out bones or charred flesh decomposing in coffins halfway across town.”

Hux raises an eyebrow at this last sentence, but not at her harsh language. “ _Most_ of your family, you say.”

“Well, yeah,” Lindsey responds, and then her eyes widen. “Oh no,” she says, pushing curly hair off of her forehead, “no way. It’s not what you’re thinking. Casey’s body wasn’t found, but she’s definitely dead. She was in the building when it caught fire, and she hasn’t been heard from since. I don’t think she’s been living in hiding for years and recently resurfaced just to kill people on a whim.”

Hux half-listens to Lindsey’s tirade, but his mind is already working furiously. Casey Herdman, according to his research on the family, was - is? - tall, like her sisters, if not taller. If her clothing were baggy enough she could pass as a man. The mask is likely to disguise her face, either in order to avoid being recognized or due to facial damage from the fire. The reason for the removal of the victims’ lungs - unclear. Why the murders started so recently - also unclear.

It’s a stretch, but a lead nonetheless. 

There’s the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and Lindsey turns in her seat to see out the front bay window.

“That’ll be Rachel,” she says, turning back around. “She comes home for lunch, sometimes,” she tells Hux, though he hadn’t asked. He nods anyway.

Moments later there’s the sound of a the front door opening, and Lindsey stands, Hux mirroring her.

“Rachel,” Lindsey calls out, “I’m in the living room, there’s - ” 

She’s cut off by a surprised-sounding exclamation from the front hallway.

“I know you!” Rachel says, and suddenly Hux has a very, very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He follows Lindsey to the entryway to see a petrified-looking Ren staring wide-eyed at a woman that must be Rachel.

“Rachel,” Lindsey interjects, moving to stand beside her sister, “this is CPD consultant Kylo Ren, he and Detective Hux are just here to ask us some questions.”

“No, no,” Rachel says, biting down on her painted bottom lip, “no, I know you, somehow.”

She points at Ren, who has gone worryingly pale. Hux places a hand on his shoulder, but Ren doesn’t seem to notice, frozen in place.

“Oh! You’re Ben Organa-Solo!” At this Ren stiffens even further, if possible, but still appears to be incapable of speaking.

“Yes, I remember now,” Rachel continues, and Hux exchanges a glance with Lindsey, who seems equally lost. “Your mom was one of my professors at New Republic college. I’d never forget a face like yours, the whole place was plastered with pictures of you after you ran away. Do your parents even know you’re here?”

Hux blinks at this onslaught of information, looking at Ren for confirmation. The man in question has begun to tremble in Hux’s grip.

“No,” he says, and his voice has taken on a stormy, barely-held-together quality that has Hux on edge; he knows what Ren sounds like on the verge of a meltdown, and this is it. “You don’t know me.”

Rachel falters for a moment, as if genuinely confused.

“But - I do,” she stammers out, voice small. “I _do,_ ” she repeats, suddenly angry. “I do, you’re Ben Organa-Solo, your mom’s Leia Organa, she taught me a first-year political science course, Ben, you were missing!”

“Shut _up_!” Ren shakes himself out of Hux’s grip, lunging forward, and there’s a crashing sound as a nearby vase goes toppling to the floor.

“Ren, what the - ” For the second time in as many days, Hux finds himself being dragged out of a building by Kylo Ren. Hux struggles momentarily, but is ultimately too baffled to put up an immediate fight.

They’re almost completely out the front door when Ren turns, grip still vice-like around Hux’s arm, to face the two sisters, both frozen in bemusement.

“This never happened,” he growls, and slams the front door before either woman can respond.

At this, Hux is shaken from his bewildered reverie, and he wrenches his arm from Ren’s hold, lip curling.

“What the fuck,” he says, staring in consternation at Ren’s retreating back as the man makes his way down the porch stairs to the car, “was that?”

This is not met with a response, and Hux glances helplessly at the door to the house and then back to Ren, weighing his options, before stalking down the stairs himself to catch up with Ren.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hux repeats, reaching out to grab Ren’s shoulder, who jerks around at the touch, face dark.

“Nothing. We’re leaving.” With that, Ren shakes his shoulder free of Hux’s grasp, making to open the car door before realizing it’s locked. He turns to Hux with such an aggravated, barely-holding-it-together look that would be comical in any other situation.

“We are not leaving,” Hux protests, making no move to remove his keys from his pocket. He crosses his arms instead, sneering up at Ren, the mere two-inch difference in their heights seeming suddenly grossly exaggerated. “You fucking - _yelled_ at two civilians, and then knocked over one of their possessions. We can’t leave.”

“Yes,” Ren hisses, face very close to Hux’s, voice dangerously low, “we can. We’re leaving right now.”

Hux looks back at the front door of the Herdman home one more time, but he’s already reaching into his pocket for his car keys.

“Fine,” he says at last, and does his best not to think about what he’s doing as he unlocks the car and slides into the driver’s seat, Ren all but throwing himself in the passenger side. There’s no exchange of words as Hux pulls out of the driveway, the crushed stone grinding under the tires. Hux directs them back in the general direction of town, although he hasn’t the slightest idea as to where he’s actually headed.

“So,” he prompts eventually, once he’s sure that he’s able to keep his voice as devoid of emotion as humanly possible, “would you care to explain what just played out, _Ben_?”

“No,” Ren intones, voice just as hard as it was back at the estate and body equally stiff. Hux bristles at this act of defiance, about to remind Ren that they will both be undoubtedly punished for blatant misconduct, when Ren continues, more hollowly this time, “they won’t be reporting us for misconduct.”

Hux is taken aback for a moment by Ren’s apparent knowledge of exactly what he was about to say, as well as the surety of his most recent statement, but is distracted by his phone’s generic ringtone sounding from his pocket.

He reaches for it only to find Ren’s hand already there, delving into the deep pocket of Hux’s trench coat and scrabbling at his thigh through the fabric for a moment before retrieving Hux’s phone, glancing at the screen.

“It’s Snoke,” Ren says, as if he hasn’t just grossly and unashamedly violated Hux’s personal space, and Hux grits his teeth.

“Put it on speaker,” he says at last, and Ren complies, Snoke’s silky voice preceded by a burst of static through the speakers.

“Detective Hux,” Snoke croons, and there’s a cloying friendliness to his voice that sets Hux even more on edge than before. “I see you’re quite the public figure now.”

“Sir, I can explain,” Hux assures him, although he has no delusions that Snoke will actually let him do so.

“Unimportant,” Snoke says, as predicted. “You mentioned yesterday that you intended on personally searching the abandoned _Herdman_ building. Has this been done yet, or do I need to send Detective Phasma to do it instead?”

Hux glances at Ren, who is staring steadfastly out the windshield, and shakes his head, lip once again lifting in a sneer.

“Negative,” he tells Snoke, “Ren and I are on our way now.”

“Give me results, Detective. I’ve been patient enough with your dithering around, but this besmirching of our public image cannot be tolerated. You have until tomorrow night to prove yourself still capable of solving this, or you’re off the case. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Hux says dully; he’s surprised it’s taken this long for Snoke to give him this speech, although Hux could have done without Ren witnessing the whole event.

“Do not disappoint me, Detective,” Snoke hisses out, and there’s a beep to signal that the call has ended. Hux lets out a breath, glancing at Ren.

“Fancy a little exploring?” he asks, voice devoid of warmth, and Ren gives him an unreadable look. They’re both woefully unequipped to be practically spelunking in an old, burnt-out building, with Hux in a suit and Ren still in his clothes from the day before, but Hux directs them towards the exit leading to the _Herdman_.

It’s barely noon when they reach their destination, and the hotel is thankfully devoid of other people. Hux finds himself almost disappointed, as he wouldn’t object to the satisfaction of a simple trespassing arrest at the moment. He parks in front of the gas station across the street, despite Ren’s sullen protests that he’s “a cop, he can park wherever he wants.”

Hux unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to open his door (with his right hand, of course, so that he’s forced to look over his left shoulder for oncoming traffic, despite the fact that they’re in a parking lot), but he’s stopped by a hand on his chest. Annoyed, he glances over at Ren, who widens his eyes in a show of innocence but doesn’t remove his hand from Hux’s chest.

“Just,” Ren says, before Hux can serve him a cutting remark, “listen. I think I should take the lead from here, just for now.” 

Hux must look appropriately disbelieving, because Ren continues with haste, “I know you didn’t plan this far ahead, which isn’t your fault, since I left you on your own with all the research and questioning, which I guess wasn’t really fair, since we’re partners, but honestly, do you really think Casey is still alive? It doesn’t even make sense, really, that she would just live in hiding and only emerge to, what, kill random people for trespassing on her family’s burnt-down property? It makes more sense logically if she’s deceased, she’d have more of a vendetta, you know, because of these people intruding on her place of death, and probably her home, if she’s tied to the building somehow. Plus, it would explain how she gets into the victims’ houses, if she can become non-corporeal.”

Hux gapes momentarily at this absolute vomit of a statement, but finds himself focused somehow less on the fact that Ren has got to be off his damn rocker and more on the hand still pressed against his chest, very big and very warm, and suddenly Hux is so, so tired.

“Fine,” he concedes, and by the quirk of Ren’s eyebrow it’s clear that he’s surprised by this sudden acquiescence. To be honest, Hux is rather surprised himself. “Just this once, Ren, and please, for the love of all that’s holy, get me a damn lead.”

“I’ll get you more than a lead,” Ren says with a sudden smile, finally withdrawing his hand, “I’ll get you a ghost.”

Hux rolls his eyes harder than he possibly ever has before, clambering out of the car and slamming the door. His chest certainly does not feel rather cold all of a sudden.

The _Herdman_ is imposing when faced up close; the fire was mostly internal, and the exterior is scorched but intact. Hux squints against the watery sunlight as he eyes the expanse of it, the windows on the top several floors nothing more than dark expanses, devoid of glass. For a moment he’s glad Ren’s taken the lead on this leg of the investigation, as Hux has no desire to scour the entire building aimlessly in search of - he's not even entirely sure, and isn’t that just fucking wonderful.

Then he remembers Ren’s searching for a ghost, and he’s less glad.

The interior of the hotel is nightmarish, a veritable obstacle course of fallen beams and crushed drywall. The sunlight from outside illuminates only the outlines of shapes, and Hux draws his flashlight off of his belt and clicks it on. Through the haze of the dust and years-old soot there’s a visible trail of varying footprints, presumably the path most taken by teen explorers.

“Ren,” Hux says, taking a few steps forward, and then pauses when he receives no response. He turns, flicking the beam of his flashlight toward his companion to see that Ren hasn’t moved, standing stock-still just inside the half-intact doorway they entered through moments ago. “Ren!”

A moment passes before Ren moves, turning his head slowly toward Hux, his eyes glinting when Hux’s flashlight catches him in the face.

“We won’t find anything over there,” Ren intones, body oddly motionless. Hux is stuck by an unexpected chill, although he’s not sure why. 

“Where do you suggest going, then?” Hux snaps, drawing his trench coat tighter around himself, and his tone must trigger something in Ren, because suddenly the line of his shoulders softens, and he stretches a hand out to Hux.

“You said you’d let me lead this time,” Ren reminds him, “so just follow me, okay? I’ve got a feeling.”

_Well then,_ Hux muses, _if he’s got a feeling, then that solves everything, doesn’t it?_ He walks toward Ren’s extended hand, however, and once he draws near Ren drops it and promptly crawls through a nearby fissure in the drywall separating two rooms.

“What the - you do know there’s such thing as door, don’t you?”

Hux’s remark is met with a shushing noise, and before he can prepare an indignant retort Ren’s face has reappeared in the hole, looking impatient.

“I can’t get any psychic readings with you talking the whole time,” Ren tells him, and Hux has to remind himself that he agreed to this. “Are you coming or what?”

A thick silence falls between them as Ren leads them through a series of charred hallways, a combination of dust, soot, and rubble crunching underfoot. Hux silently mourns his second-favourite pair of dress shoes, which will undoubtedly be ruined after this excursion.

Despite the fact that he doesn’t have a flashlight himself, Ren seems to know where he’s going, entering a pitch-black stairwell left nearly entirely unscathed in its complete-concrete state, Hux’s flashlight illuminating the small space like a beacon. After a few flights they emerge on a identical floor several storeys above where they had entered, slightly less damaged but just as dark as the previous one.

After a few moments Ren begins humming, a pop tune that had been playing when he turned on the radio in Hux’s car the morning before, and Hux refrains from commenting for a commendable minute or so before it gets to be too much.

“What happened to needing silence?” Hux barks, and Ren looks over his shoulder, eyes gleaming once again in Hux’s light. He shrugs once, his large shoulders lifting under his jacket, before turning back around.

“I’ve caught on to something,” he says, as if this explains everything, “and I don’t really need to concentrate now.”

“Good,” Hux says, “then you can get to explaining your behaviour back at the Herdmans’ estate this morning.”

Ren heaves a plaintive sigh, dragging it out like a child being nagged by a parent.

“Fine,” he says abruptly, “I’ll tell you everything if you do the same.”

“Meaning?” Hux inquires, raising an eyebrow.

This time Ren stops walking, causing Hux to nearly bump into him.

“I mean,” Ren says, turning around so that he and Hux are chest-to-chest, and Hux prevents himself from taking an instinctive step back, “I’ll explain you my past if you explain yours. Especially how it pertains to what happened last night.”

Now Hux does take a step back, mouth flattening into a scowl. “Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself.” With this, Ren turns his back and continues to weave his way through the maze of debris.

They continue in silence, Hux’s curiosity and righteous indignation waging a battle against his desire for privacy and aversion to sharing personal details with Ren. After another minute or two, the former wins out.

“Fine,” Hux tells Ren’s back, “I’ll tell you. About - you know. But only if you give me a full and detailed explanation of whatever in all hell caused your completely unprofessional temper tantrum this morning.”

He hears Ren exhale, and for a while the only sound is their footsteps once more.

“I,” Ren begins, then pauses, inhaling and exhaling again before continuing. “My name, as you probably gathered, isn’t Kylo Ren. Shit, I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”

Another pause, but Hux doesn’t interject, letting Ren gather his thoughts.

“I was born Ben Organa-Solo, son of a diplomat and a former drug smuggler, believe it or not.” Ren huffs a short laugh, and although Hux finds the statement bizarre, it’s not all that humorous. “Anyway, I kind of grew up all over, because of my mom’s job and all. She was the diplomat, by the way. My dad stayed on the right side of the law once they got married, I guess, because I never even knew he had been anything other than a mechanic until I turned fifteen.”

Hux can see Ren reach back and scrub a hand through his hair several times before letting it drop to his side.

“I…didn’t have such a great time, as a kid. I had a lot of - issues, I guess, with anger and aggression. It didn’t help that my parents weren’t around a lot, with my mom’s work and my dad’s commitment issues. I got kicked out of one middle school for getting into fights, then another, and I tried to be good, but I just couldn’t stop hearing what people were thinking and, fuck, I hated all of them and their stupid thoughts.” Ren runs the same hand through his hair again. “They sent me to go live with my uncle for a while, thinking he could, fuck, fix me? With his weird meditation and shit, but that just made it worse. When I started high school my mom took a job as a professor at a local college so that we wouldn’t have to move anymore, but at that point it was…too late.”

Hux has averted his flashlight, examining the filthy floor in lieu of Ren’s agitated body language.

“I just…felt like I was going to explode. For my junior year I felt like I was constantly on the verge of _something_ ; every time I looked at anything I felt like I could obliterate it with my mind, and I almost wanted to. But senior year, I felt better, because I’d already decided. The night after graduation I just left.

“I traveled around for a while, always using a fake name, and then actually got around to changing my name. Once that was done I figured I was safe to go to college, which I still wanted to do, but I wasn’t worried about my parents finding me anymore. I had enough money saved up, and I worked two jobs through it all, but…it felt good, you know? I couldn’t keep a job after that though, I felt like a kid again, everyone’s thoughts bouncing around in my mind and seeing things I didn't want to see and…anyway, I met Snoke and he - helped me. Control my abilities. Then he offered me a job, and here we are.”

Ren doesn’t turn back to look at Hux, and Hux is somewhat glad of this. He supposes Ren’s story makes sense, in its own way. It certainly explains Ren’s odd relationship with Snoke, and why Ren was so distraught when Rachel recognized him as Ben. Two things, however, don’t exactly line up in Hux’s mind.

“Your parents,” he ventures, “do they know where you are now? Or that you’re at least alright?”

“Yeah,” Ren says, “kind of. They were never the real problem, but they were definitely part of it. I just couldn’t deal with it anymore, you know? I just - I can’t explain it. I needed out. I call, sometimes. But I only leave voicemails, and never from my own phone. I want them to know I’m okay, I guess, but I’m not ready for them to find me.”

An acceptable enough answer. This brings Hux to his next question, and he’s not exactly sure how to phrase it. Up until this very moment he never once believed Ren to have genuine psychic abilities; the very existence of such an ability in any individual was preposterous. Acute logic and observational skills could pass as supernatural abilities to the more gullible of the population. Ren’s story, however, is shockingly genuine, his descriptions of his tribulations earnest if not almost believable.

Turning this over uneasily in his mind, Hux continues. “And your - powers. Snoke helped in what way?”

“He…believed me, for one thing,” Ren says, leading them into yet another stairwell, his voice echoing around them. “It’s not like they’re really at my beck and call to show people in order to prove them, they’re just kind of there. But he believed me without my having to even prove it. He’s the only person other than my parents or my uncle who ever did that. He showed me how to direct it, I guess. It’s hard to explain. I’m not just psychic, you know. It’s more than that: mild telepathy and telekinesis as well, but it’s - hard.”

“Prove it,” Hux says without thinking, but his mind is reeling ever so slightly, and he hates it.

They exit the stairwell, on the top floor now, and Ren gives Hux a frustrated look over his shoulder.

“I literally just told you they’re not at my beck and call. I can’t,” he says, and Hux frowns.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” he asks, and then pushes his queries aside for a more convenient time. “We’re on the top floor, is there something in particular that’s supposed to be here?”

“Yeah,” Ren says, but doesn’t elaborate. “So?” he asks after a while.

“So what?” Hux asks, though he knows what Ren’s after.

“I told my sob story, it’s only fair if you tell me yours,” Ren tells him, sticking his head through a buckled doorframe, examining the room, and then leaning back out again.

Hux sighs, and on a whim, clicks his flashlight off, letting darkness wash over the two of them. Ren doesn't seem to need the light, anyway. Hux tries not to reflect on that for long.

“I…don’t sleep well,” Hux says to the darkness. He can see the dim outline of Ren in the weak light that’s coming from the windows in the rooms around them, just enough to be able to still follow him. He bites down on his lip, deliberating where he’s supposed to go from there.

“I never really did, but I didn’t need medication in order to do so until about…a few months before Snoke hired you, I suppose. A year and a bit ago. There was a case that. Fuck.”

Hux bites his lip even harder this time, unused to being at such a loss for words. There is, however, no easy way to describe what he’s trying to say.

“Phasma and I were working on a case that - hit a little too close to home, for me. A man was missing. His wife had been dead for years, their sixteen-year-old son hostile and covered in unexplained bruises. He wasn’t upset to hear of his father’s disappearance, and I…knew the look in his eyes. Knew what the bruises were from. Knew from experience, if you will.”

He lets that sink in, but doesn’t let the silence continue long enough for Ren to be able to respond. 

“I thought I could help him,” Hux persists, voice flat. He’s surprised to find that he no longer feels anything while recounting the story, save for a hollowness in his chest. It’s somewhat of a welcome feeling. “Phasma was convinced he’d killed his father, but I wasn’t - even if he had, I didn’t care. I think I saw myself, at sixteen, and all I could think of was how I wished my…how I wished my father had disappeared, back when I was that age.”

Ren’s stopped walking now, his shadowy form still facing away from Hux, who turns his flashlight over and over in his hand, voice devoid of emotion.

“Phasma tried to warn me that he wasn’t trustworthy, that he was far more unstable than he seemed, but I guess I was just blinded by my - empathy.” The word tastes odd in his mouth, one that he doesn’t use often, if ever. “He wasn’t the only suspect, but we received an anonymous tip from a witness, and I was sent to bring him in to the station. I still don’t know exactly what happened - there was no answer when I went to his house, but the door was ajar. I went through the customary motions before entering, but I didn’t have my gun drawn. I was stupid.”

Hux inhales through his nose, holds the breath for a moment before letting it go.

“He caught me off guard, I had barely even rounded the corner out of the front hallway before he stabbed me with a fucking kitchen knife. He was panicking though, stabbed me in the shoulder instead of somewhere more effective. I didn’t have time to draw my gun before he had one pointed at me.” Here Hux shakes his head, letting out a humourless laugh. “He was clearly hysterical, had the gun pointed at my heart instead of my head. Told me he wasn’t going to prison when he’d just finally gotten free of his father. I tried to talk him down, but he was - inconsolable.”

Sometimes, when Hux closes his eyes at night, all he sees are the boy’s impossibly wide, panicked eyes. Hears his ragged breathing, punctuated with desperate sobs.

“His shot went wide, hit me right beside the blade of the knife. Looked at me for a second, then realized what he’d done, I suppose. Shot himself in the head.”

The hollow feeling has spread from Hux’s chest to his stomach, and has begun creeping up his throat. A hand lands on his left shoulder, his bad one, and he starts. He hadn’t even registered Ren’s approach.

“I could have helped him,” Hux says after a while, and if he squints he can make out the expression on Ren’s face. It’s solemn, his eyes like dark pools in the half-light. “I could have done - something. It didn’t have to be like that. Over a year’s passed and I can’t fucking get his face out of my head.”

Ren’s face is awfully close to Hux’s, his body emanating a comforting warmth. He opens his mouth to speak but stops and turns at a shuffling sound behind him.

Hux immediately flicks his flashlight back on, leaning around Ren to get a look at the source of the noise.

Ghostly white in the beam of the flashlight, a tall figure in a hockey mask stares back at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes!!
> 
> Please leave feedback if you don't mind, and feel free to follow me on tumblr @ssunglassesemoji (if you tell me your url I'll follow back!)
> 
> Thanks for reading pals

**Author's Note:**

> So Kylo wasn't supposed to be flirty but it just sort of happened lol. Can't wait to dig up tragic backstories later in the fic!!!1!! Also, is Kylo actually psychic? Who freakin knows lmao.
> 
> Sauce me a follow on tumblr: ssunglassesemoji
> 
> Also, as I said in the notes at the beginning, this is my first Star Wars fic, so please leave feedback if you want!!


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